Ник Сайнт - Purrfect Advice. Purrfect Passion. A Purrfect Gnomeful

“Very tough call,” he agreed. “There have been moments perps lied to my face and I thought they were absolutely truthful. And there have been times when I was sure the person on the other side of the table was lying while he was actually telling the truth.”

“You would think that I’d had developed an instinct for this kind of thing by now, but I’m still clueless.”

“By the way, what were your grandmother and Scarlett doing at Allison Gray’s place?”

“Gran said she applied for a job. Cat sitter. Though Scarlett told me a different story. She said Allison invited them. She’s been thinking about moving here permanently and wants to get involved in Hampton Cove’s social scene. She’d heard from her housekeeper that both Gran and Scarlett are plugged into all kinds of committees and local organizations and wanted to get to know them.”

“I didn’t know your gran was a member of any committees.”

“She isn’t. Too ornery to be tolerated for more than a single meeting. And Scarlett rubs people the wrong way with her provocative behavior and manhunting ways.”

“I would have liked to have seen your grandmother’s face when she and Scarlett showed up at the same time.”

“They seem to be getting on better. Maybe they’ve finally decided to make peace.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” said Chase. “Hell will freeze over before those two bury the hatchet. I think they secretly enjoy their feud.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right. Did I tell you that Scarlett knows we can talk to cats now? She heard Gran talk to Jasmine and told her that if she doesn’t allow her to tag along on this investigation she’ll tell the whole town.”

“That’s not very nice of her.”

“No, it isn’t. Though I don’t think she’ll actually do it. She knows Gran would simply deny everything and people will think she’s simply spreading gossip to make Gran look bad.”

Odelia had picked up her phone and was reading something.

“Whatcha reading?” asked Chase, trying to catch a glimpse. But Odelia held the phone away from him and smiled.

“Just an article Dan wrote about a reading at the library. Where are my cats?”

“I saw them take off earlier.”

“Cat choir, probably.”

“Yeah, probably.” He cleared his throat. “Um… you know how we said we’d go out to dinner?”

“Yeah, for some reason something always seems to come up when we do. Maybe next time we simply don’t make any plans but decide last minute?”

“I’d like that. There’s… something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh? Pray tell, Mr. Kingsley.”

He laughed. “Not now.”

Odelia nodded. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What?”

“Like the man said, ‘Not now.’”

“Fair enough.”

And as Chase turned off the light and Odelia snuggled up to him, he wondered if he should send another message to Gabi, asking her advice. How do you ask a woman to marry you when you’ve already asked her to marry you?

Tough proposition.

Half an hour later, Odelia was listening to Chase’s even breathing, and took her phone again. She’d posted another question for Gabi, and an answer had popped up on the site.

Her question had read: ‘Dear Gabi. My boyfriend proposed to me a couple of months ago, and since then, nothing. Do you think I should maybe ask him to get a move on or is that not something you’d recommend? Or maybe he got cold feet and doesn’t want to go through with it after all? Please advise. Thanks. Anxious Heart.’

‘Dear Anxious Heart,’ Gabi’s response read. ‘Don’t you worry about that big lug. Instead tell that uncle of yours to get his lazy ass out of his chair and show some initiative. The political kind. He should have been mayor of this town a long time ago!’

And as Odelia put her phone down, she vowed to have a talk with Dan the next day. This new Gabi was giving some really strange advice, she felt. Almost… too personal.

Chapter 13

Hampton Cove was finally asleep, which meant that its feline population had the streets to itself, and more particularly its park. Hampton Cove Park, which is located not all that far from the ocean, may be a hive of human activity during the day, at night it’s our domain, and so it was now, with all of the town’s feline inhabitants flocking to.

Easily the most popular social gathering in town, cat choir is just an excuse for us cats to gather around and shoot the breeze.

Of course we also like to roam the streets of an evening, with some cats enjoying the darkly lit back alleys and the sizable dumpsters this town boasts, and where usually some nugget of food or leftover dinners can be found. But when all that strenuous activity is over, there’s only one place to be and it was where we were now.

Harriet and Brutus, who’d been conspicuously silent about where they’d spent their day, were there, and so was Kingman, and of course Shanille, cat choir’s conductor.

Kingman, in particular, was in excellent spirits. He kept telling anyone who’d listen that the Hampton Cove Gazette had instituted its first-ever feline advice columnist, and for all cats to share their questions with him, and he’d deliver them to the right place.

I decided to sidle up to Kingman to find out more about this momentous occasion, and also, maybe, glean some information about the womanizing and now very dead Kirk Weaver.

“So who is this new columnist?” I asked.

Kingman smiled. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out, Maxie.”

“Which is why I’m asking you, Kingman. It must be someone who’s both wise and extremely smart, right?”

“Right,” he said, continuing mysterious.

“So is this pet Gabi a he or a she?”

“First of all, why would you automatically assume her name is Gabi, and secondly, you should go to the source, Max. And the source is right… there.” He was pointing to Harriet, for some reason, and I frowned. “Harriet is the new Gabi?”

“Like I said, her name isn’t Gabi. It’s Chloe, and even though Harriet isn’t her, she knows who she is, so you better ask her.”

And to show me that the conversation was over, he turned away to talk to three very pretty female felines.

And I hadn’t even managed to broach the topic of Kirk Weaver. Darn it.

So I walked over to Harriet, who stood shooting the breeze with Shanille.

“So I hear you’re the go-to person to find out all there is to know about Chloe?” I said.

Shanille made a face. “Can you believe that Kingman is telling the entire town that I’m Chloe? While I haven’t even heard the first thing about this new position.”

“If you’re not Chloe,” I said. “Then who is?”

Shanille shrugged. “Beats me. But it must be someone very smart. Dan wouldn’t give this high-profile job to just any old cat unless he knows she’s up to the task.”

“So who do you think it is?” I asked Harriet, but Harriet didn’t seem to have a clue, either, which only left Odelia, who was sure to know who this mystery cat was. I vowed to ask her in the morning, and for now focus on finding out more about Kirk Weaver. Before I could ask Shanille, though, she’d traipsed off, presumably to prepare tonight’s songbook. And so it was that I found myself chatting with Harriet.

“So who do you think Chloe is, Max?” she asked.

“No idea,” I intimated. I glanced around, wondering who I could talk to about Kirk.

“But we’ve already established it must be someone very smart and wise, right?”

“Uh-huh,” I said, the topic no longer gripping me.

“And are you absolutely sure you don’t know a cat like that?” she asked.

“No, actually I don’t,” I said. “Listen, can we change the subject? I have a murder to solve.”